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Childhood Stolen by Shame

The lasting wounds of being made to feel like a mistake.



π‘π‘œ π‘β„Žπ‘–π‘™π‘‘ π‘ β„Žπ‘œπ‘’π‘™π‘‘ π‘’π‘£π‘’π‘Ÿ 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 π‘™π‘–π‘˜π‘’ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘¦ π‘€π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘Ž π‘šπ‘–π‘ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘˜π‘’ π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘ π‘–π‘šπ‘π‘™π‘¦ 𝑒π‘₯𝑖𝑠𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑦𝑒𝑑 π‘“π‘Žπ‘Ÿ π‘‘π‘œπ‘œ π‘šπ‘Žπ‘›π‘¦ π‘”π‘Žπ‘¦ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘›π‘ π‘”π‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿ π‘β„Žπ‘–π‘™π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘› π‘”π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘€ 𝑒𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘¦ π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘’π‘›π‘€π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘‘β„Žπ‘¦ π‘œπ‘“ π‘™π‘œπ‘£π‘’ π‘π‘’π‘π‘Žπ‘’π‘ π‘’ π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘—π‘’π‘π‘‘π‘–π‘œπ‘› π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘ β„Žπ‘Žπ‘šπ‘’ π‘–π‘šπ‘π‘œπ‘ π‘’π‘‘ π‘’π‘π‘œπ‘› π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘š, π‘Žπ‘  π‘Ž π‘β„Žπ‘–π‘™π‘‘.


As a child at the age of six, I tried to end my life, by hanging myself from the front porch railing. I can still remember asking God why someone like me was allowed to be born. Even at that young age, I had already learned that who I wasβ€”something I had no control overβ€”was seen as wrong.


Being chastised and made to feel ashamed for simply existing filled me with a sense of isolation so deep that I believed there was no place for me in the world. I didn’t have the words to explain my pain, only the overwhelming feeling that I was a mistake.


No child should ever feel that way. The damage of being rejected and shamed for who you are doesn’t just fade with timeβ€”it lingers, shaping the way you see yourself and the world around you.


This is why love, understanding, and acceptance are not just important but necessary. A child’s life should never be weighed down by the unbearable burden of believing they do not belong.


Parents who chastise their gay or transgender children seem to believe that shame and rejection will somehow "fix" what was never brokenβ€”when all they’re really doing is proving how unfit they are to offer the love and support a child deserves.


A child so small, yet lost in despair,

Burdened with shame too heavy to bear.

A question to God, a plea in the nightβ€”

Why was I born if I wasn’t right?


𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 π’˜π’π’π’…π’†π’“ 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 π’˜π’‰π’ π’„π’‰π’‚π’”π’•π’Šπ’”π’† π’•π’‰π’†π’Šπ’“ π’„π’‰π’Šπ’π’…π’“π’†π’ 𝒇𝒐𝒓 π’ƒπ’†π’Šπ’π’ˆ π’…π’Šπ’‡π’‡π’†π’“π’†π’π’•β€”π’˜π’Šπ’π’ π’•π’‰π’†π’š 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 π’”π’π’“π’“π’π’˜ π’˜π’‰π’†π’ π’•π’‰π’†π’Šπ’“ π’π’˜π’ π’‚π’„π’•π’Šπ’π’π’” 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 π’•π’‰π’†π’Šπ’“ π’„π’‰π’Šπ’π’…'𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉?


Belle Webb | Profile


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